


i am under the surface (where the blackness burns beneath)

by lunasasylum



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: (self) kink-shaming, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Secret kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12787002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasasylum/pseuds/lunasasylum
Summary: you hated saying that you needed it, which is exactly why he made you do it





	i am under the surface (where the blackness burns beneath)

You were very much a sweetheart. This was simply a fact of life, just like hydrogen is the first natural element and that Earth is the third planet from the sun. The fact that you were too nice for your own good was known. You covered extra shifts at work so people could go home early, you checked in on the woman next door almost every day, and you loved people, albeit blindly sometimes.

 

The point is, everyone knows you're an angel. 

 

And then there was Dean, who knew so much better.

 

It happened on accident when it was first hinted at. In fact, when he first found out, it was an accident.

 

You two were play wrestling, he was tickling you as you got up and ran from him. He sought you out and when he tripped you, he pinned you beneath him. Prior to this, Dean was always gentle with you, always careful with you, he'd never been rough with you. But, the second he'd grabbed your wrists, leaving you completely helpless beneath him, that's when something shifted. Your hips canted upwards and Dean watched your pupils dilate.

 

You immediately rolled out from underneath him. There was no way you could tell him. You've always been good for him, he spent his days fighting people, cursing, yelling, being rough. There was no way you were going to have him come home and be rough with you. He needed gentle, and you were gentle.

 

So, you sucked it up and did it slow. You let him caress and kiss and stroke as slowly and as softly as he wanted. It didn't matter if you weren't getting off all the time,  _he was_ , and that was the important thing.

 

Dean was sated and happy, pliant in the way that he only is post-sex, you smiled and hummed as he fell asleep. He had to go on the road tomorrow, and you'd be alone for a while, again.

 

It was easy to pretend like you didn't need it, because really...you didn't _need_ it. It was fine, it was just a kink, and it wasn't important. Dean really didn't need to know about it and you didn't have to talk about it. When he was gone, however, you let yourself indulge in it. You were allowed to raise your voice, beg, whine, plead to the imaginary Dean to let you finish, to  _make_ you finish, over and over and over again.

 

And when he came back, so did you. You hid from him, allowed yourself to be cuddled and snuggled during sex, which wasn't bad _all_ the time, it just wasn't for you. It honestly makes you sick sometimes, knowing what you need, knowing that you wanted to be treated  _that_ way during one of the most intimate acts a human could preform was sickening to you.

 

But, he kept pushing it. Or more specifically, you. Dean was always playful, but if he wasn't an entire foot taller than you, with over a hundred pounds on you, it'd be easier to be playful.

 

There's a close call when he pushes you against a wall, hugging you. The second your back connects with the wall, your eyes flutter shut and you're drawn back to all the scenarios where Dean does this with pure intent. A whimper slips out and when you open your eyes, he's looking at you quizzically, raising an eyebrow,

 

"Are you okay, hun?"

 

Shaking your head (and metaphorically yourself out of it), you smiled and nodded at him. "I'm good." It didn't hurt, but the feeling of literally being trapped between Dean and a hard place was something you had dreamed of.

 

You could feel your control slipping every time he did something you liked. Dean had taken to pinning you until you tapped out, and if you didn't tap out fast enough he'd keep you there. He'd keep you pinned beneath him, often jokingly, but it still twisted your stomach every time it happened. He went from appreciatively patting your ass to open handed swats to full on spanks for no reason. You always turned around and scolded him lightly, but there was no heat behind your empty threats. One time, you lost yourself entirely and moaned when he yanked on your ponytail. You covered it up with a cough, but it was too late. He'd already heard you.

 

So many times you'd wished that you were satisfied with what he already did. You hated the fact that you wanted more.

 

It all came to blows when you were joking about one of the things he had done with Roman in the ring.

 

"Come on, babe!" You laughed, poking him in the side. "It was so cute. The way you stopped and picked up the microphone for him! That was so cute! You're such a little snowball, Dean. I screamed, you're such a little sweetheart." You were nearly breathless from laughing at this point.

 

He looked at you for a second and then jumped forward. You were already pinned underneath him, staring up at him, he seemed a little different to you. "I  _would_ say the same thing about you, but that's not true is it?"

 

You swallowed thickly and looked up at him. "Dean, what are you talking about?"

 

"That's not what you call me when I'm not here..." He taunts, voice dangerously low. "That's not what you  _scream_ , when I'm not home. You've called me a number things, but Dean is not what one of them."

 

Your eyes widened when he started talking and then you willed yourself to wake up from whatever this was. "You beg and beg for me to do so many  _bad_ things to you, but never call me Dean. I've heard...'Daddy', 'Sir', and even a few 'Mr. Ambrose's slip out, but rarely Dean."

 

The dream was too real now. You could feel his breath on your face and his body too hard against yours. He heard you. Oh no.

 

_How?_

 

You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting your embarrassment to show, but you could feel tears building up and you seriously wanted to cry now.

 

"Babe, you don't, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—" He immediately pulled up, rolling over on the side of you. You covered your face with your hands.

 

"I didn't want you to know! I didn't want you to know." You sniffled, knowing your tears were falling freely now. "You work so hard and you're so sweet and gentle with me. And what I want is so bad...I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

 

Dean pulled your hands off your face, and kissed your palms. "What you want is hot. It's very hot. And I find it very attractive."

 

"You don't have to say that." You whimpered, wiping your eyes and turning to face him. "We don't have to talk about it, we can just act like it didn't happen, and the last two minutes didn't happen, please."

 

He sat up and urged you to do the same. "Why?"

 

"Why what?"

 

"Why don't you want to talk about it?" Dean asked, playing with the frayed end of the your (his) shirt.

 

"I don't want you to do it. Like, I do, but I don't want you to think that I want that for any specific reason. And, especially with everything you've been through...I don't want to make you unhappy or bring up bad memories, and I'm sorry." You were rambling and mumbling at this point, hoping he'd eventually drop it.

 

"Darlin', look at me." You raised your eyes to meet his and tried to smile. "I like you, and I want to know what you like. If you like this, if you like calling me 'Daddy', we can try it. Tell me what you like, please."

 

You shrugged and closed your eyes. "I like being thrown around, like pressed up against walls, bent over y'know. I, um, I like..." Dean prompted you to keep speaking. "I like being called names..."

 

"Like what names?"

 

You shrugged as your face grew hot, and started playing with your fingers, "S-slut, whore, and stuff..."

 

"You like that." He said it plainly, like it was a simple fact of life.

 

"Yeah, I do. A lot." You were already squirming just thinking about it. "But, I also like praise. Being called 'good girl' and shit..."

 

Dean tilted his head. "Huh?"

 

"The juxtaposition of it makes me...it's just hot to me." You started mumbling, a bad habit when you were nervous. "We can, we don't have to do this. I don't need this."

 

He fixed you with a look that made you bow on instinct. "I know that stuff like this gets you. I've  _noticed_ you, Darlin'. When your eyes flutter shut after I call you naughty, when you whine when I make you wait for an orgasm. Babe, I know. I just didn't how much you'd beg for this."

 

"I won't beg!"

 

"Yes, you will, because you want to." Dean smiles, a smug smile, telling you he knew you and what you were telling him.

 

"I'm serious, though, we don't need to do this." You assured him. "We can drop this and just go back to the way things were."

 

Dean rolled his eyes. "What's that, huh? You gettin' off every time I'm not home? Pretendin' to come when we have sex?"

 

You knew your eyes went wide at that. "I do not-!

 

"Sometimes, you do, babe. I know the difference. When you come you go all tight and after you finish your walls don't stop quiverin' for like a whole minute afterwards." His words made your stomach clench and a shaky breath came out. Your eyes only fluttered shut for a second before flying open again. "Damn, like that too? When I talk about that?"

 

You nodded, looking down. "Is that okay?"

 

Dean chuckled. "You're fuckin' hot, babe."


End file.
